


Marital duty

by Dinadette



Series: Marital Bliss [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, As a possibility, Bisexual Armitage Hux, Bittersweet Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Control Issues, Curiosity, Curiosity killed the cat, Explicit Consent, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Forced Explicit Consent Hence Dubcon, Forced Marriage, Grinding, Hux is Not Nice, Interrogation, Loss of Virginity, Love/Hate, Military Ranks, Misogyny, Non-Penetrative Sex, Not Millicent!, Not in Graphic Details, Period-Typical Sexism, Possible Power Kink, Possible Sociopathy, Possible Virgin Hux At Least, Power Imbalance, Self Confidence Issues, Sexual Confusion, Swearing, Take it as you will, Torture, Underage Rape/Non-con, Uniform Kink, Verbal Humiliation, Victim Blaming, Virgin Hux, Wedding Night, Yeah Probably Forced, in thoughts at least
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 17:37:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14878280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dinadette/pseuds/Dinadette
Summary: Wedding night with General Hux could probably have been made easier for her had she not watched him interrogate a young, handsome rebel.





	Marital duty

**Author's Note:**

> \- I live for reviews, good, bad, neutral, they always help! -

Getting married to Armitage Hux by proxy wasn’t exactly what Mara had in mind for her own future. Nor would she wish it on anyone. Yet as she stood alone in her bedroom, safely back home to her parents, she thought that it could have been much worse. Many of her friends had been married off to old men on distant planets, leaving everything behind, in hope to produce an heir for someone who very clearly would soon need the… replacement. At least this wasn’t the case.

 

Over time, boxes and chests had arrived, and been installed in a nearby villa that would apparently be theirs, later. In the end the man had arrived too, and she met her stranger of a husband in her parents dining room, her mother going all out to impress him with various wines and meats from over the galaxy. He barely looked at her, though sometimes she felt his gaze on her face and cleavage as they sat down to eat. He seemed content ignoring the women, discussing with her father about politics and loyalty to the First Order.

 

Her mind flew back to that time she had been visiting the house - their house - and she had been silly enough to go through his belongings. Nothing interesting at first, military biographies and books, treaties about politics and then. The holofilms. Propaganda, she assumed, but as she watched it turned darker and darker, her little hand trembling as she switched it off in the middle of an interrogation scene. The boy - the rebel - tied down to a chair could have been a little brother of hers, the way he was wailing, the way General Hux was smiling, and all the blood… She couldn’t handle this.

 

Was this what he enjoyed watching late at night? Or was this a message to her, a warning? Don’t snoop? Other men sent flowers, or chocolate. Letters from the front, telling about their feelings and revealing who they were. Maybe it was his way of doing that. She stood to run, but sat down again defeated, and turned the holofilm on again.

 

The general bent toward the boy, as gently as she could imagine him ever doing. His thumb wiped away some of the tears marring the young rebel’s perfect skin, before it landed on his lip, almost guiltily grazing at it until the boy gasped. He was close enough to kiss him, she thought madly, but he didn’t do so. He turned toward the cam, blood glistening on his otherwise perfect uniform, and she couldn’t make out what he was saying as his hand plunged into the boy’s strands to grab him closer and the film went black. It was over - but certainly not for that rebel, whoever he was - or had been. She wanted to throw up.

 

Improved life expectancy had made underage marriage almost redundant on many civilized planets, and Mara wasn’t young and sheltered enough not to feel something was off with the scene she had witnessed. There was something under that mechanical, cold behaviour, some not so secret enjoyment - at least in this case - and she suddenly could believe the stories she heard about General Hux. The man liked pain, blood and possibly things had gotten quite out of control after the token scene. She could imagine many ways it would have turned, none of them pleasant.

 

She had married this man.

 

The meal dragged on forever, and she was grateful for that. The short trip to her new home was silent, and there was greeted by servants she already knew. It was comforting. She was shown her own bedroom and she hoped, madly, that the man was too lofty and busy to be interested in anything else than a token trophy wife. Maybe he didn’t have any such needs, she thought, unable to imagine him wasting time taking off that uniform of his for such base reasons. Maybe he did have needs, but they were met with… whatever she had been witnessing. She shivered.

 

Two knocks on the door, closer to how she imaged the police would sound before storming a building, than a shy lover at his darling’s door. She willed herself to ignore it and he strode in, owning the place and its inhabitants. She felt a need to stand up from her dressing table where she had been doing nothing, not even staring at her beauty in the mirror, her makeup and hairdo perfectly in place still. He looked at her for a moment, and she wondered if he planned to make her even more terrified, or if he didn’t know what to say.

 

“Lie down”, he said, nodding at the bed. His first sentence to her.

Was this his idea of courting his own wife? She passively rebelled and didn’t move. He repeated it, his tone more clipped and tighter, not yet angry but surely getting there.

“I am not some sold woman, I won’t be forced”, she declared.

“You were sold to me”, he simply explained. Both a fact and a provocation. This wasn’t a match, it was a purchase. His pale blue eyes roamed over her form, conveying more than his words would. “You will do your duty or else”. His tone was flat, unemotional. He took off his cap and threw it on her dressing table, the item ominous and strange among her dainty cups and phials. It could look like she was having a tryst with an officer, after all she knew nothing of him - her heart skipped a beat as she stood up and her world went spinning, panic settling over. She caught herself to the back of the chair. She wanted to run but she couldn’t. She had nowhere to go. Her parents wouldn’t, or couldn’t, take her back. She belonged to the General Hux, now.

 

She was afraid, he realized.

“You seem quite nervous and tense. More than many men I interrogate, actually”. Maybe not the best thing to say, he didn’t care. “You don’t have to be afraid of me if you behave”.

If you behave. He knew then, and worse; he knew that she knew. Maybe it was a gift to already have seen him at his worst, she tried to convince herself, while she slowly made her way to the huge, luxurious bed. At least her childhood bedroom wouldn’t bear testimony to whatever would happen next.

 

She sat down, then nervously lied down, her eyes always on him as if she expected him to pounce on her.

 

“Show me”, he said, his hands clasped behind back. She interrogatively looked up, not understanding what he wanted.

“Show me what my credits bought me”, he taunted, and her eyebrows knit, quite unable to compute. His gaze grazed over her legs and pelvis and she finally did, unable to look at him any longer. Bunching her long white dress in her fists - much too akin to a wedding gown, and blood would show on it, she thought hysterically - she gave him a view, the material uncovering her ankles, her calves, her knees…

 

“More”, he demanded, and she went on though she didn’t stop. The warmth in his voice all but encouraged her to search his face for some feeling. She found none and idly feared she had imagined the tone also. Her thighs were uncovered now, the top of her stockings giving way to her naked skin, milky and untouched, where no man had laid eyes before. Only then did she notice how she was trembling, and the strange feeling or sensation burrowing into her stomach as his eyes feasted on what she was showing him. He strode closer to the bed and she didn’t move. It was tolerable to have him watch her, really. He didn’t touch her or attempted to. She allowed herself to find him handsome and to ponder that he had chosen her. He was the General of the First Order. This wasn’t unattractive. Maybe if things were taken slow and gentle… A normal husband, coming home, loosening his tie and wishing to be with his wife to unwind a stressful day at work.

 

A normal husband wouldn’t leave holofilms of himself torturing people around.

 

She stopped, her underwear still gratefully covered under the material, and he didn’t tell her to keep going.

 

He unclasped his hands. “Now…”. She tensed, nervously shifting on the bed.

“You have to tell me that I can proceed”. He could have speaking to a fellow soldier, an officer, asking for procedure and looking for a mission accomplished. “I cannot force you, after all”, the man sneered. He was getting petty revenge for her word. If she told him so, she would feel wanton and debased, and he would always claim that she threw herself at him.

 

She nodded. He ignored it.

 

He wanted to hear her ask for it.

 

“Yes”, she whispered.

 

He cocked an eyebrow, pretending not to be able to decipher her meaning.

 

“I beg your pardon?”. The Coruscant clipped vowels, aristocratic and wholly superior to the so-called elite of that backwater planet, were back. She imagined herself, for an instant, a local nobility lady - a colonial bumpkin to the man - pleading with the mighty General to spare her planet. He would, barely, understand her drawl but she could use more universal gestures. No, this wasn’t a good thought at all.

 

She sighed and he even bent toward her, as if he really wanted to accommodate a prissy wife. What, though, if she was really difficult for not saying what he wanted her to say? Didn’t most men want a willing wife? Wasn’t it actually the more wholesome way? She wanted to believe this, that he really wanted a normal start between them… But then she caught his gaze again. He was gloating over her shame and she blushed because she had actually been fantasizing about various scenarii involving his power over her.

 

And then she knew.

 

“Take me General”, she said, pretty ironical, unsure if this was some sick game or what she really wanted. She immediately bit her lip at the wave of arousal coiling through her.

 

He was on top of her in a second, not reprimanding her for her tone. He pushed a red strand from his eyes, his hair normally perfectly slicked back betraying his absolute control. She noticed he was breathing quicker than usual, too, but his gaze wasn’t much different from what was featured on the interrogation holomovies, boring into hers. She shivered from feeling him so close, and from the memory. Her legs parted on their own, giving him space to do whatever this would be, but they shook and almost held him in place too. She liked his weight and solid figure on her slim body. Her hand touched him, as if to make sure he was real and this was happening. It played with the thick material of his jacket, fingered the military insignia and the buttons. He shifted almost unconsciously and they both were startled when his erection nestled against her thigh. He could feel some things, then. And he was good to go just from… this. Mara felt an unwanted wave of tenderness for the man who ruled so many, and yet didn’t seem to realize his own hardness before it pressed against her.

 

She wondered how much experience he did have, after all, with women or with anyone. Anyone willing. Anything more normal than what she had imagined happened after on that movie. She couldn’t afford to think of that. Nothing probably happened that would be of a sensuous nature or inappropriate to met on an enemy. But his fingers on her cheek, trailing to her reddened mouth and smudging at the lipstick, were oddly similar…

 

“General?...”, she offered, her hand exploring and pressing against his lower back, pushing him closer to her. His own breath hitched now, and she heard him swear under his breath, a word she wouldn’t have thought someone like him used.

 

He hated that he was the one stalling. It didn’t fit his world view, how he saw himself or the marital bed. The husband was to take what the wife gave, or didn’t quite.

 

“Kriff”, he repeated, his hand now toying with his zipper as she tensed having it so close to her womanhood. He took himself out and she was torn between wanting to see, and not wanting to.

“I’m not going to hurt you more than needed, but you need to stop this… shaking”.

She hadn’t noticed she had started doing it again. As if it was so easy! More than needed wasn’t encouraging to say the least.

 

General Hux waited a few seconds, perhaps giving her time to compose herself, but it was obvious she couldn’t so he pushed aside her underwear and Mara felt something warm and hard against her folds, pushing and searching. She hoped she wouldn’t have to guide him and she looked up interrogatively after several attempts. It wasn’t exactly painful, or bad, but it wasn’t what it should be. He averted his eyes for the first time, as if frustrated or ashamed. Then he seemed to make up his mind and he grabbed her hair, going for her mouth punishingly. His lips felt soft, too soft for a man - and what man - but this was a welcome distraction from her mind’s eye coming up with his strong hand in that boy’s hair.

 

She opened her mouth for him, tentatively, and he didn’t do more than pressing his lips to it or biting then laving and soothing the area. What if he didn’t want her, what if she couldn’t offer what he really went for… Her tongue touched his lip, once, then several times, and he kissed her as a lover would, at last. He held onto her arm, gripping it in a strong grasp that would leave bruises, she thought, and he started thrusting against her, rubbing his cock to her folds, reaching everywhere but where he should possess her. Strange at first, she accepted the intrusion though still half thinking this wasn’t what she understood it should be, and she shivered when the blunt head grazed against some pleasurable place inside her, near the top of her womanhood. He did it again, either searching for the entrance or on purpose. Mara held onto him, caressing and encouraging, her hands roaming over his uniform, the moans coming from her lips making for quite a sloppy kiss.

 

He was breathing hard, occasionally swearing, his hips more erratic but she only felt less ashamed for it, thinking that if the great general could be in such a state, then who was she to be composed?

 

“Mara…”, he managed to say, and she whined at her name pronounced with such a needy tone. Was he really calling her name? “I need… I should…”. He seemed to dislike losing control or confessing to a weakness, and yet he was doing both.

“You’re too tense, I can’t…”. Of course he would blame that on her too.

 

She was soaking wet, his length swiftly stimulating her between her legs, but she knew he hadn’t taken her as his wife yet. She didn’t want to stop whatever they were doing, but if it felt that good, then how would the real thing…?

 

His hardness pressing her just the right way was sending tingling electricity through her body, and one last stroke pushed her over the edge she didn’t know was a thing. She bit his lip hard, clenching around nothing, and a vague thought of how ironical it would be if she made him bleed didn’t take away from her peak. An upward cant of her hips, searching subconsciously for something to fill her, seemed to catch onto his manhood and she cried out, pain and pleasure mixing, when he broke the barrier and made her his.

 

“Fuck”, he panted, feeling himself at last deep into her, where he belonged. He embraced her hard, willing himself not to move because it was too much already, and he wasn’t going to embarrass himself and appear like less of a man, but he couldn’t, it was just impossible, he could see she was in pain now but his hips were searching for completion, for possession.

 

She had been told her husband would keep control of the situation, he would know what to do, and it wasn’t the case. He knew she was expecting something else. He snarled and shivered, talking to keep himself distracted, but only inciting himself further.

 

“You made me do this… Can’t leave me like this… Take it now…”. Even his desire he couldn’t take responsibility for, she thought, he had to be the aloof man seduced by a harlot, when he was trembling in need. She actually didn’t mind his words, bucking against him and caressing him as she led him to his own finish. She was so tight he was almost in pain, too, not that he would mind such a thing.

 

“Just like this, that’s right”, she whispered, feeling him pulsating and twitching. Her pleasure was growing again, enjoying the power over him now that the pain had receded - there was some of it, still, but she wasn’t really adverse to the feeling - and he watched her as she shuddered and whined, his hand on her chin preventing her from hiding her face from him. This seemed to do it for him, and she realized how close he had been already at her first orgasm. He was the one averting himself now, not wanting to show vulnerability, but she threw back his own sentence at him.

 

“Show me”. The slightly interrogative lilt would prevent it from being absolutely  insolent, it was a plea in a way, and he hesitated but he was too far gone.

 

“Oh, for fuck’s sake”, he all but snarled, and his pelvis stuttered as he tensed and stilled, his handsome face contorted in pleasure as he seemed lost in a world of oblivion. She could have sworn no one had seen him like that ever, that along with his warm seed coating her from the inside made her moan and clench, milking him until he slacked against her, breathing out of control.

 

She petted at his hair, trying to pat it back into shape as she knew he wanted it. His forehead was burning, his cheeks red. She expected him to push her hand away, and probably tuck himself back and leave the room now that the marriage was consummated, but he remained on her bosom, and she didn’t stop her gesture. She wanted to unbutton him and have a look at his body, as he had of hers.

 

“I didn’t know what I was doing either”, she brought up as a comfort, or a vague taunt, maybe. He peered up, her eyes meeting his icy blue ones, and she couldn’t decipher his reaction but he didn’t try to claim she was wrong. They had both enjoyed it, it had been clear, and she wanted to convey that it was what mattered as she slightly pressed on his head, settling him back onto her cleavage. His breath was warm against her curves. She was tense and sore between her legs, and she thought she felt the material under her drying from their various fluids - some of it she didn’t want to consider, too close to a certain holo - though she knew that should he want his marital right again soon, she wouldn’t refuse him. She shivered at the image, pressing him more into her. His strength and might intrigued her and she couldn’t deny she was troubled at the idea of being his outlet, the very idea she had hated before. She would probably want to go through that forcing discussion again, because she had ever slightly changed her mind. She craned down her neck and imprinted a soft kiss on the top of his skull. He didn’t protest. She fought hard not to remember the man in the video, not to think she was simply enamoured with the man who could make her experience pleasure, on a high from it, and that he was only tolerating all this because he got to unleash in a more socially acceptable way. A sob escaped her lips at last, the angst and emotions from the night taking a toll. Maybe he was sleeping already, or he didn’t care, but the General didn’t react this time either.

 


End file.
